


Cold Without You

by ghostboi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Bobby, Dean Hates Witches, Love Curse, Love Spell, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn in Later Chapters, Possessive Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Loves Dean, Spells & Enchantments, Wincest - Freeform, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostboi/pseuds/ghostboi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's hit by a love curse, and Sam is the object of his fascination.<br/>Damn witches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Second fic for this fandom. The old 'love curse/spell'. I don't know, sometimes my muses are wonky, maniacal tossers.
> 
> Wincest in later chapters.

It was almost two in the morning, in another roadside motel, and Sam couldn’t sleep. He was exhausted from their earlier confrontation with a _janara_ , an Italian witch (which had resulted in the witch having her magic bound by a spell Bobby had provided). They had bound her magic and hit the road, driving for several hours before reaching this motel. He was exhausted, yet at the same time, he was still slightly wired. He rubbed a hand over his face and glanced over at the bed closest to the door: Dean appeared to be sleeping without any problem. He sighed and rolled onto his side, jerking the blanket up around his shoulders. He was going to get some sleep tonight if it killed him.

He hadn’t been asleep long when the mattress shifted, jerking him out of his sleep. He was reaching for the knife he had shoved beneath the mattress earlier, when he heard his brother’s groggy voice,  
“Easy, just me.” 

“What are you doing?” he sat up as Dean crawled onto the bed next to him, pulling the blanket from the other bed with him. 

“Scootch,” his brother muttered, “’m cold.” 

“Dean..?” Sam frowned as Dean slid beneath the blanket next to him and scooted closer. 

"Just cold, Sam.” 

"It’s not that col-“ Sam started; his words were cut off in surprise as Dean’s hand brushed his arm; the other man’s touch was like ice. It was then that he realized Dean’s teeth were chattering. 

“You okay?” he rolled over to face his brother and raised a hand to press it against Dean’s forehead. The other didn’t seem to have a fever, though his skin felt a bit clammy. Sam’s brows shot up as Dean pressed closer to him. The other man was practically _cuddling_ , his head resting beneath Sam’s chin, body pressed close. It might have been awkward on most occasions but, as Sam felt the other man shiver, he pushed down the urge to put some space between them.

He pulled Dean’s blanket and his own up around Dean’s shoulders and, almost on instinct, slid his arms around the other man. He heard Dean sigh softly, felt him slowly relax against him. After several minutes, the man’s trembling stopped. Sam pulled back slightly to look down at his brother’s face, to find that Dean was asleep. 

The following morning, Sam was slowly pulled into consciousness as he felt movement beside him. He felt a warm body pressed against his, a leg tangled with his own. He sighed softly, ready to let sleep claim him again. It was then that he remembered whom was sharing his bed with him, and his eyes shot open. 

Sam glanced down to see that it was, indeed, his brother who was snuggled up in his arms. The awkwardness he had pushed down last night came flooding in; he felt his face redden as he tried to ease his arm from beneath Dean’s head. The smaller man’s eyes opened suddenly, and the green gaze shifted to him. 

“Sam?” 

The look on Dean’s face was almost funny. Bewilderment, surprise, and a touch of sleepiness. 

“How you feeling?” he asked, shifting slightly to untangled their legs.

“I’m fine,” Dean’s brows furrowed as he scooted to the edge of the bed, putting space between them, “What the hell, man?” 

"Don’t look at me,” he couldn’t hold back his chuckle at the indignation on Dean’s face, “You climbed in here last night. Said you were cold.” 

“Yeah,” Dean nodded as the recollection hit him, “I was. Couldn’t freaking get warm for some reason.” His brother shook his head and sat up, shoving the blankets off himself. He shoved himself out of the bed and stretched as he added, “Uh. Sorry about that.” 

Sam shrugged a shoulder, “It’s fine. You sure you’re feeling alright? Still cold?”  
Dean shook his head as he crossed the room to his duffel. “No, man,” Sam watched him rifle through it, looking for a change of clothing, “I’m okay now. I don’t know what happened. Adrenaline crash, maybe?” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam agreed as he climbed out of the bed and moved to his own duffel. It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had crashed from too much adrenaline after a hunt: he was always left feeling like he had a slight hangover, after one. He chuckled as he heard “Damn witches”, and grabbed a change of clothing before going into the bathroom to get dressed and brush his teeth.

Dean was dressed and sitting on his bed, watching television, when Sam exited the bathroom. He tossed his sleep clothes in his duffel and, stretching, muttered, “Man, I can use some coffee. Want some?”  
“Hell yeah!” The enthusiasm in his brother's answer caused him to chuckle.  
He grabbed his wallet and shoved it in his pocket, before picking up his gun. He checked to make certain the safety was on before shoving it in the back of his waistband. He grabbed his jacket off the chair and moved toward the door. 

Sam was halted in his tracks as Dean stood suddenly and grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?” his brother asked.  
“Uh,” Sam blinked at him, bewildered, “To get coffee.” Dean stared at him for a long moment before releasing him and saying,  
“Alright. Be careful.”  
The other man sat back down on the bed, his attention back on the television. Sam stared down at him for a long moment, and Dean raised his eyes and asked,  
“What?”

Sam stepped to his brother and raised his hand, intending to place it against the other’s forehead. Dean pulled away, a look of annoyance crossing his features. He huffed out a breath as Sam raised a brow, and allowed his touch.  
“I’m not sick, Sam,” he assured as Sam pressed a hand against his forehead. He certainly didn’t feel feverish.  
“Alright,” Sam stepped back and pulled on his jacket, “I’ll be back.” He smiled and shook his head as Dean called after him,  
“Bring me a donut!”

Sam was back in half an hour with a box of donuts, two cups of coffee, and several newspapers.  
“Where have you been?” Dean demanded as he entered the room.  
“I was gone 30 minutes,” he shot his brother a glance as Dean stood and approached him.  
“Yeah, well I’m starving here, while you’re out sight-seeing,” his brother took the box of donuts from his hand and opened it up to inspect the contents.  
Sam shook his head and crossed to the room’s table to set down the coffees and newspapers. He seated himself in one of the two chairs – Dean took the other one – and shook open one of the newspapers.

He read it in silence for several minutes before his brother finally asked,  
“Anything exciting?”  
A shake of his head as he finished scanning the article that had his attention. “Nothing in our line of work” he answered.  
“Yet,” Dean supplied, licking chocolate off his fingers.  
Sam shook his head at his brother and wordlessly tossed a napkin in his direction before flipping to the next page of the paper. He read in silence for a minute, before speaking,  
“Here’s something. It’s a letter to the editor, about a haunting in the library.”  
“Library, huh?” Dean shot him a smirk, “Sounds like that’s right up your alley.” 

Two hours later, Dean parked the Impala in front of the local library. He opened the door and climbed out, automatically checking to make certain his gun was in the waist of his jeans. Sam climbed out of the passenger side and did the same; they met at the front of the car. 

“Alright,” Sam tugged the hem of his jacket down to make certain his own gun was adequately hidden, “Let’s do this.” He took two steps away from the car, but a hand on his arm halted him. 

“What are you doing?” 

Sam stared at the other man for a moment, then dropped his eyes to his brother’s hand, which was grasping his arm. “What?” he asked as he frowned at his brother, perplexed, “I’m going to do what we’re here to do, which is to check out the library.”  
Dean stared at him for a second before shifting his green gaze to the library in front of them. He studied the place for a moment before he released his hold on Sam’s arm. “Alright,” he relented, “Let’s go. Just be careful.” 

“Dean, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the smaller man glanced up at him, “Why?”  
“You’re acting a little weird,” Sam said as he raised a brow, and Dean huffed a breath.  
“You’re the one who’s weird,” the man muttered, moving across the empty street, toward the library.  
Sam stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and following him.

They spent six hours in the library, searching for information about a possible haunting. They spoke with the person who had written the letter to the newspaper editor (who swore it was an evil spirit that you could hear in the library ceilings). They spoke with library staff: No, there hadn’t ever been a death in the library and they had never seen or felt anything odd. They looked through old newspaper clippings. They took EMF readings multiple times and came up with nothing. Both of them were frustrated with the absolute lack of information, and were about to call it an evening. Sam was packing up his notebooks and laptop, when Dean laid a hand on his arm and asked,  
“You hear that?” 

Sam tilted his head and listened; moments later, he heard a very faint scratching sound. “Let’s hang around a little longer,” he suggested, “See what turns up.”

Three hours later, the brothers exited the library just as it was closing. “Squirrels,” disgust traced Dean’s voice, “The so-called ghost was just a bunch of squirrels.”  
“It’s nice to have an easy job for a change,” Sam shot his brother a smirk.  
“Yeah, but we wasted the entire day at the _library_.” The older brother shook his head and opened the library’s front door. He flicked his gaze up and down the street, and stepped aside to let Sam pass.  
“Dinner?” Sam suggested as they crossed to the car.  
“Hell yeah,” Dean rubbed his stomach, “I’m starving.”  
“You’re always starving, Dean.”  
“What can I say?” came the retort, “I’m a growing boy.” 

Dean parked the Impala in front of a local waffle house a few minutes later.  
“Really, Dean? This place is a heart attack waiting to happen.” He rolled his eyes as Dean grinned and countered,  
“Yeah. Great, isn’t it?”  
They climbed out of the car and started toward the restaurant. Sam was jerked to a stop as his brother took hold of his arm suddenly. He glanced over, before following Dean’s gaze to a group of men standing in front of the restaurant. 

“What’s wrong?”

Dean was silent for a moment before answering, “Nothing. It’s good.”

“O-kay,” Sam shook his head and followed the other man; he didn’t miss the fact that Dean positioned himself between him and the men. “Dean, what is going on with you?” he asked his brother, his voice low so it didn’t carry across the parking lot. 

“Nothing. Why?” Dean held the restaurant door open for him, eyes casing the interior of the place as they entered. 

Sam was silent for a moment as a waitress guided them to a booth. After she had taken their drink order and walked away, he turned his eyes back to his older brother.  
“You don’t think you’re acting weird?” he questioned. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sam.” The other man was giving him a bewildered glance.  
Sam shook his head and told him, “You’ve been kind of – protective, all day.”  
“I’m always protective,” Dean reminded, his eyes on the menu he held, “That’s not going to change anytime soon.”  
Sam couldn’t argue that point, so he picked up his own menu. 

A short while later, Sam raised his eyes as their waitress returned yet again. She shot him a smile as she refilled his almost-full cup. 

“Can I do anything else for you?” she batted her lashes at him, and Sam felt a flush touch his cheeks. He started to respond: before he could, Dean spoke from across the table,  
“I think he’s good.” 

She blinked over at Dean – Sam was a bit startled to see that he was practically glaring at the woman. She shot Sam another smile, this one less certain, and left the table. 

“Pushy,” Dean muttered, dropping his eyes back to his food, “Think she would give you time to eat something before offering more.” 

Sam nodded, conceding Dean’s point: the woman had been at their table five different times. He has barely had the chance to touch his food. He raised his eyes to Dean, and found the other man staring at him, an odd look on his face. 

His brother dropped his gaze and muttered, “Shut up, Sam,” before he could ask.


	2. 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes into over-protective mode. Sam figures out something's not quite right.

The following week found them in a motel in Nebraska. They had just finished a job involving an angry spirit – that had been a nasty bit of work. 

“Man, I could use a drink,” Dean muttered as he pulled a long-sleeve plaid over-shirt on, over his t-shirt.   
“Yeah, same here,” Sam agreed, “There was a bar right down the street.”   
“Sounds like a plan.” Sam grabbed his jacket and followed his brother out the door.

Sam was leaning against the bar, a beer in hand. Dean was at a nearby pool table, playing a friendly, no-bets game of pool with another patron. His attention alternated between the pool game and watching other people. He glanced over as someone took a seat on the bar next to him: it was a pretty blonde. 

“Hi,” she shot him a smile, which he returned. She ordered a drink from the bartender, before turning to face him fully. He couldn’t stop his chuckle as she grinned and asked,   
“Come here often?” 

 

Dean had just finished up his game and turned to look for his brother. It took him only seconds to spot Sam sitting at the bar; a blonde was standing next to him. His first thought was ‘ _way to go, Sammy_.’ He frowned as it was immediately followed by a stab of anger. That girl could be anyone. She could be a demon, she could be a vampire, she could be danger. 

Dean’s hand tightened on the pool stick he held still; he took a breath and leaned it against the wall. His eyes flicked back to his brother; his anger only increased as he saw that the woman was clinging to Sam’s shirt, her body pressed against his.

Sam blinked, startled, as the woman pressed herself against him. He gave a mental shrug and went with it – who was he to complain if a pretty girl wanted to be close to him? He had just slipped an arm around her waist when she pulled away from him. Correction, she was _pulled away_ from him. 

“Dean?” bewilderment laced his voice as he watched his brother position himself between him and the blonde. 

“Is this your boyfriend?” the girl asked Sam, raising a brow.   
“Take a hike,” the growl in Dean’s voice left zero room for argument, and the girl turned and stomped away.   
“What the hell, Dean?” he demanded, stepping closer to his brother. Dean turned to face him,   
“She could have been trouble."

“Since when do you consider girls in bars trouble? What the hell is going on with you?” 

His brother stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head and looking away. “You ready?” his brother asked, trying to change the subject, “I’m ready to get out of here.”   
“Yeah, fine,” Sam huffed, “but we’re going to talk about this when we get back to the room.”

They had no sooner entered the room and shut the door, when Sam turned to Dean. “Okay, what the hell is going on with you?”   
“Nothing!” Dean denied, crossing to the room's mini-fridge and pulling out a beer. 

"What was that at the bar then, Dean? You’ve been acting weird for weeks now.” 

He barely heard Dean’s muttered response of “I don’t know,” and he asked, “What? Come on, Dean. Talk to me.”   
“I don’t know!” his brother repeated, louder this time, “I don’t know, Sam! I just know that it –“   
He fell silent, his eyes on the far wall. He shook his head and took a drink of the beer.   
“Just what, Dean?” Sam moved closer – he didn’t miss that Dean backed away.   
“I don’t know,” the other man repeated. 

"Dean –“ 

"It pissed me off, okay?” Dean turned and slammed the beer bottle on the table, “Seeing that girl all over you. It pissed me off!”   
“What-? Why?” Sam studied his brother in confusion, trying to figure him out.   
“Just did,” the other man muttered. He glanced at Sam and immediately looked away. 

“You have to talk to me, Dean,” Sam’s voice was gentle now as he stepped closer to his brother, “I need to know what’s going on with you.” He saw Dean glance at him out of the corner of his eye, saw his brother swallow hard. Dean ran a hand through his hair before he took a seat at the table. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he relented finally as he stared down at the wood surface, “I saw that girl on you and I wanted to tear her head off. Every place we go, I’m afraid you’re in danger.” 

Sam frowned as he recalled the moments recently when Dean had grabbed his arm or placed himself between Sam and someone else. His brother glanced at him again – Sam felt a pang in his chest at the confusion in his brother’s eyes. 

"I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Sam.” 

"How long has it been going on?” he asked. His only response was a shrug. Sam frowned, tapping the table with his fingertips. He allowed his eyes to roam the room as the tried to pinpoint the change in Dean’s behavior; it hit him suddenly as his eyes fell on the beds. “That night you were cold,” he said aloud. 

"What?"

"The night you got in bed with me,” Sam reminded, “You said you couldn’t get warm. The night we fought that witch. You started acting odd that next day.” 

"You think that bitch cursed me?” Dean frowned – he hated witches and it showed on his face.   
“Maybe,” Sam said, “But what kind of curse makes you, well, more protective?”   
The two sat in silence for several seconds before Sam said, “I’ll give Bobby a call and see if he has any ideas.” 

Sam called Bobby as he went for more ice. While Bobby didn’t have an immediate answer, he promised to do some research, which made Sam feel somewhat better. If anyone could help them figure out what was going on with Dean, and whether this curse (if it was a curse) would negatively affect him, it was Bobby. 

He pocketed his cell phone as he entered their motel room, closing and locking the door behind him. He glanced toward the beds, and raised a brow. Dean was laying on one of them and appeared to be asleep; his brother had crashed out that quickly? 

Sam shook his head as he took the bucket of ice to the mini-fridge’s freezer. He turned then to grab some clothing from his duffel bag so he could get ready for bed. He couldn't really blame his brother for crashing: it wasn’t quite yet midnight, but he was tired himself. They rarely had enough sleep, so an early night would probably be good for both of them. 

Sam exited the bathroom several minutes later and glanced toward his sleeping brother. He shook his head as he saw that Dean was still fully dressed, including his boots. He crossed to his brother’s bed and sat on the edge of it. 

“Dean,” he shook the other man lightly, “You going to wear your boots to bed?”   
“Mm,” was the only response.   
Sam sighed and scooted down to the foot of the bed, where he unlaced and pulled off Dean’s boots. He dropped them to the floor next to the bed before pulling the blanket from the foot of the bed and draping it over his sleeping brother. He started to stand when a hand grabbed his wrist. 

“Where you goin’?” Dean muttered, slitting open tired eyes to gaze up at him.   
“I’m going to bed,” Sam answered, gently extracting his wrist from the other’s fingers.   
“Don’t go far,” the sleeping man murmured, before shifting onto his side.   
Sam smiled and shook his head, before crossing to the table and his laptop to do a little research of his own.

 

Sam woke from his sleep several hours later with a start as he heard his name. He sat up in his bed and glanced toward Dean’s; the other man was still beneath his blanket, and appeared to be asleep. He frowned and ran a hand through his hair. Probably a dream, then. 

He had just laid back down when he heard Dean mumbling. The words were incoherent; he seemed to be talking in his sleep. Sam studied the other man for a long moment before shifting his gaze to the ceiling above him. He had just let his eyes slide closed again when Dean suddenly cried out,   
“Sammy!”   
His eyes flew open and he shoved himself into a sitting position, prepared to leap into action if they were being attacked. His eyes flew to his brother, to see that Dean was sitting up in his own bed. 

"Dean?"

The other man’s eyes shifted to him and, even in the dim glow of the street lights that shone in through the thin curtains, Sam could see the relief on his face.   
“Sam,” the other man breathed.   
“What’s wrong?” he searched the room with his eyes, looking for signs of danger, but couldn’t see any immediate threat. His gaze returned to Dean as the other man spoke, his voice barely audible,   
“I thought you were gone.” 

"What?"

"I thought you were gone,” Dean repeated, glancing at him and looking away again, “I – I dreamed – you were gone. You left and I was here alone –“ Dean’s voice cracked slightly on the last word, and he dropped his head to look down at the bed covers. 

"I’m right here, Dean,” Sam shifted so that he was sitting on the bed’s edge, feet on the floor. Dean’s next words were so quiet that it took him a moment to figure them out,   
“Thought you left me, Sam.” 

He stared at his brother for a long moment – Dean wouldn’t look at him – before finally saying, “Come here.” 

"Huh?” Dean cast a look in his direction, a combination of puzzlement and hope etched on his features.

"Come here,” he repeated, patting the bed next to him. He wasn’t certain why, but something told him he needed to bring his brother to him. Dean hesitated for a moment before he complied and slid out of the bed. It surprised Sam a little, as he figured the other man would scoff and refuse out of pride or some sense of masculinity. Instead, his brother crossed the short space between them to stand next to his bed. Sam slid back into the bed, scooting over to make room. 

“Come on,” he repeated. After a moment’s hesitation, Dean crawled on to the bed and slid beneath the blanket next to him. Their eyes met, and the fear that touched Dean’s sent a sharp pang through his chest. 

“I’m not going any place,” he vowed, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.   
Dean nodded and whispered, “Yeah, I know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”   
Sam studied him for a moment before pulling the other man to him. Dean froze momentarily and seemed about to resist but, after several seconds, allowed himself to lean into the hug. He felt Dean’s fingers clutching at his shirt and he tightened his hold on the smaller man. 

“I’m right here, Dean,” he assured, hugging his brother close. He felt the other man nod against his shoulder. They parted after a minute, and Dean shot him a sheepish, embarrassed smile. Sam laid back on his pillow and suggested, “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?” 

Sam woke the following morning to find himself tangled up with his brother. Dean’s head was resting on his arm and the smaller man’s legs were entwined with his own. He shifted, trying to free himself without waking the other man, but Dean’s eyes shot open. 

“Wha’s goin’ on?” the other man mumbled, blinking against the light that shone through the gap in the curtains. His green gaze flicked to Sam and he sat up, pulling his legs free. 

Sam took a moment to stretch; when he opened his eyes, he found that Dean was watching him. The other man glanced away, and Sam sat up in the bed.   
“Breakfast?” he asked, sliding out of the bed. He was trying to avoid awkwardness between he and his brother.   
“Yeah, sounds good,” his brother agreed, running a hand through his hair. 

Sam exited the bathroom a short while later, clad in a pair of jeans and hair damp from his shower. He crossed to his duffel and searched through it, looking for a clean shirt. He glanced to his brother, who was sitting at the table, cup of coffee in front of him. Dean’s eyes were on him, a peculiar look on his face. The other man shot him a slight smile and dropped his eyes to a newspaper that was lying on the table. 

"You okay?” Sam asked, voice slightly muffled as he pulled on his shirt.   
“I’m fine,” came the muttered response, “You almost ready? I’m starving.”   
He sat down on his bed to pull on his boots. “I’ll meet you in the car,” he suggested as he laced the first one.   
Dean nodded and stood. He grabbed the Impala’s keys and headed for the door. 

They were sitting in booth in one of the local restaurants a short while later, eating breakfast. Sam was eating, at least. Dean had eaten half his meal and was picking at the rest with his fork.   
“Thought you were starving,” Sam teased his brother, sipping at his coffee. He saw a frown touch Dean’s features and the other man muttered,   
“Thought I was. Guess not.” The other looked up at him and, before he could ask, said,   
“I’m fine, before you ask again.” 

They raised their eyes as their server returned to their table.   
“Refill?” she asked, hoisting the coffee pot she held a bit higher.   
“Sure,” Sam shot her a smile and scooted his cup within her reach. 

She refilled it before turning her eyes to Dean. “How about you, hon?” she shot him a million-watt grin: Dean nodded and slid his cup to her. She refilled it, blushing as he winked at her.   
“Call for me if you need anything else,” she murmured. Dean assured, “Will do,” and she went to her next table. 

Sam chuckled and shook his head. He raised his eyes and met Dean’s, and found that his brother was giving him an odd look, similar to the one he’d had on his face in the hotel earlier.   
“What?” he asked, tilting his head a bit.   
His brother smiled and said, “It’s nice to see you laugh.”   
Sam’s brows shot up at the comment but, before he could say anything, Dean shoved out of the booth.   
“Hitting the head,” the man muttered, strolling off in the direction of the bathrooms. 

Sam had paid the check and was sitting in the Impala when Dean exited the restaurant. His brother opened the driver’s door and slid into the car. Sam was taken aback when Dean snapped suddenly,   
“Why the hell did you take off?” 

“Wh- what?” He blinked at his brother; Dean was glaring at him. “I’m right here, Dean. What the hell are you talking about?”   
“I came out and you were – Forget it,” the other man muttered, starting the car. He maneuvered the car out of the parking lot and headed back to the motel. 

“Let’s get our shit and get the hell out of here,” the older Winchester instructed, opening the car door.  
Sam stared after his brother as Dean climbed out of the car and headed toward their motel room.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets hit on, and Dean gets possessive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of brother/brother make-out session in this one.

Two nights later, they were sitting in yet another bar, having a drink. Tonight’s job had been a fairly simple salt and burn. 

Sam had spoken to Bobby a short while ago, but the man hadn’t yet pinpointed what the _janara_ may have done to Dean, if anything. Sam was starting to get concerned, as his brother’s behavior had been increasingly odd the past few days. 

Dean had ordered a couple of beers as Sam spoke with Bobby: they arrived just as he hung up on his end. He accepted the beer his brother handed him, and he couldn’t help but laugh as Dean raised his bottle and said, “Here’s to our very weird lives.” 

“I hear that,” Sam tapped his bottle lightly against his brother’s, and took a swig from it. He turned to Dean as the man commented,  
“This place looks a little sketchy, don’t you think?”  
Sam glanced around before answering, “Yeah, a little. Most of the places we end up do, though. You want to leave? This isn’t like when you had ghost fever, is it?”  
The older man rolled his eyes, a smirk touching his mouth, and said, “No, it’s not. Being here does not terrify me, but thanks for reminding me of that.” 

Sam glanced to his right as he felt someone brush against his arm.  
“Hey,” a dark-haired man had seated himself on the empty stool next to Sam and was smiling at him. “How’s it going?”  
“Pretty good,” Sam answered, returning the smile. He grinned as the other man said in an obviously cheesy attempt at a pick-up line,  
“Come here often?” 

Dean snorted next to him, and Sam shot him a glance. “No,” he answered, turning his gaze back to the stranger beside him, “Not from around here.” 

“Name’s Carson,” the brunette introduced himself.  
“Sam,” he replied in turn. He nodded to his brother and continued, “This is Dean.”  
“Hey Dean,” Carson peered around Sam to shoot Dean a grin, “You Sam’s boyfriend?” 

Sam laughed and was about the correct the assumption, when Dean spoke first,  
“Yeah. I’m his boyfriend.” 

Sam’s eyes flew to his brother in surprise, to find that Dean was glaring at Carson. He flicked his gaze back to Carson as the man said,  
“Ah. That’s too bad. I was hoping he was single.”  
“He’s not,” Dean’s voice dropped a notch; it was practically a growl.  
Sam recognized the look in his brother’s eyes – Dean was in hunter mode, which did not bode well for the man flirting with him. He wasn’t certain what was going on with Dean, but decided to intervene before there was trouble. 

“I’m not,” he agreed with Dean’s statement, giving Carson an apologetic smile.  
“Boyfriend’s jealous?” Carson teased, ignoring the warning on Dean’s features. 

“Boyfriend’s about to get pissed,” Dean slammed his beer bottle down on the bar, turning his full attention to the flirting brunette. Carson’s smile faltered, and the man took a step back.  
“Just playing around,” he tried to console, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, “Let’s not get hostile, okay?”

"Then step _the fuck_ away from my Sammy.” 

"Dean –“ Sam started, touching Dean’s arm. His brother shot him a momentarily glance before turning his attention again to Carson.  
The man next to Sam took another step back and said, “Enjoy your beers.” He nodded to Sam before he turned and quickly departed.

"What the hell, Dean?” Sam hissed as he turned to face his brother.  
“What?” Dean asked calmly, picking up his beer and taking a drink, “You wanted that chump to sit there and hit on you?”  
“I was fine with it,” he shot. He saw Dean’s fist clench and the other man shot him an angry look. “Since when do you care who hits on me?” he asked, running a hand through his longish hair.  
“Fine, go hit on him,” his brother snapped, slamming his empty bottle down on the bar. Sam stared after him in shock as Dean stood and headed toward the bar’s exit.  
The other man had sounded almost.. jealous. 

He caught up to his brother just as Dean exited the building.  
“Dean!”  
He didn’t get an answer, so he followed the smaller man across the parking lot, to the Impala. 

Dean was reaching for the car’s door handle when Sam shoved between him and the Impala.  
“Move, Sam,” the other man growled.  
“I will when you tell me what the hell is going on with you,” he said stubbornly.  
“Thought you were going to flirt with that fuck in the bar,” Dean snapped.  
“Might do that when we’re done here,” he retorted, annoyed with his brother's behavior toward him.

Sam blinked in surprise as Dean grabbed him suddenly and shoved him back against the car. His brother’s fingers dug into his biceps as the man growled,  
“The fuck you will! You are _mine_!” 

“Dean --?” Before he could finish, his brother was pressing against him, pinning him against the Impala. Fingers found and entwined in his hair, pulling his head down; he was too stunned to react when Dean’s mouth captured his. The kiss was hard, almost bruising, and he tried to pull back, surprised and bewildered. 

“Mine,” his brother growled against his mouth, tugging his hair and pulling his head back a bit.  
The tremor that ran through him at the action caught him off guard. His brother’s mouth was pressing against his again, and he knew he needed to pull away; instead, he found himself leaning into it. His lips parted in a soft gasp as Dean tugged his hair again, and his brother’s tongue slid into his mouth. 

Sam’s mind was screaming for him to come to his senses, but his body was telling him something different. Dean was good at what he did, kissing included, and he found himself responding to it. When his brother growled “mine” against his lips again, a soft whimper escaped him. He couldn’t make himself pull back as his brother’s mouth claimed his own; he found that he didn’t really want to pull away. 

The other man pulled back after a long minute, and Sam stared down at him in shock. He watched as his brother shoved him aside and jerked open the car door; a moment later, he was being shoved in the driver’s side. He slid into the car and slid over to the passenger side, glancing at his brother as Dean got in behind the wheel. 

“Dean –“ he started, voice slightly hoarse. The look his brother gave him was predatory, hungry, and he fell silent. 

Several minutes later, they pulled into the motel parking lot, where they were staying for the night. Dean got out of the car and, after a moment, Sam followed suit. He was about to ask again what had happened at the bar, but his eyes fell on a couple who were unloading their car nearby. He followed wordlessly as his brother led the way into the room, and waited until the door was closed and locked. Dean tossed the Impala’s keys on the table between the beds before turning to face him. 

“What- what was that?” he asked, voice catching slightly as Dean stepped toward him, “You fucking kissed me!”  
“Gonna do it again,” there was promise in Dean’s voice as his brother practically stalked toward him, shedding his jacket and tossing it to a corner of the room, “Like the way you taste, Sammy.”  
“Dean!” Sam raised his hands as the smaller man stepped closer; he wasn’t certain if he was trying to fend his brother off, or just buy himself a moment to collect his thoughts. He backed away as the other man stalked toward him; he found himself against the room’s door moments later. “It – it’s the curse, Dean,” he tried to reason as his brother stepped into his space.  
“Might be,” Dean agreed, his voice husky. He leaned into Sam’s space and Sam tried to push him back; he found his wrists pinned by his sides as Dean caught them and shoved them against the wall. 

"Would you prefer me if I was that bastard in the bar? Would you prefer him, Sammy?"

Dean’s breath was hot on his ear, his voice low-pitched and practically dripping sex. Sam couldn’t stop the shiver that raced down his spine; he could hear why women threw themselves at his brother. That voice – He shook his head, trying to catch his scattered thoughts. What the hell was he doing? This was his _brother_!  
“Dean –“ his own voice was a whisper, and he inwardly cursed himself. 

"Didn’t answer my question, Sammy.” Dean released one of his wrists and raised a hand to brush a knuckle down his cheek. The gesture was a caress, and the look in Dean’s eyes was hunger and devotion. 

Sam swallowed hard, momentarily lost in his brother’s green gaze. “I – didn’t – don’t – want the guy at the bar.”  
“That’s good,” his brother whispered, brushing his mouth against Sam’s ear.  
Another shiver raced through him, and his eyes slid closed. “Dean, stop,” he murmured, “We can’t –“ 

“That what you want?” Lips brushed his jaw line, “You want me to stop?” 

No. Hell no. He wanted this; he had wanted this for years. He had wanted this since he was 13 years old, hitting puberty and worshipping his beautiful big brother. “It’s – “ his voice caught, and he swallowed hard, “It’s the curse, Dean. This isn’t you. Not really.” He bit back a moan as Dean’s tongue traced down his throat, and teeth nipped at his flesh. He had to stop this before he gave himself – and his feelings –away. “Dean, stop,” he instructed, voice stronger, “Don’t make me kick your ass.” 

The other man pulled back to look at him. After a moment, Dean let out a disappointed sigh and stepped back. “If that’s what you want,” the other man said, moving toward his bed, “For now.”  
Sam watched as his brother stretched out on the bed, arms beneath his head.  
“I’m right here if you change your mind.”  
Dean winked at him, and Sam swallowed again. He rubbed a hand over his face and moved to the bathroom. He needed a minute to himself – he was completely off-kilter, here.

 

Dean watched as his little brother crossed the room and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He could tell Sam was thrown by his behaviors over the last little bit; to be honest, he was a bit thrown himself. Part of his brain was screaming at him for doing what he had done – _you kissed your brother! Are you out of your mind?_ -, for wanting Sam as he wanted him. 

He figured that Sam was right, that it was the curse or whatever the hell that witch had done to him. What had started out as protectiveness had been growing the past week, and tonight in the bar had escalated what he had been feeling. Even now, he wanted to go back and smash that flirty bastard’s face in. What was his name? _Carson_ , his brain supplied helpfully. Carson. Right. Well, Carson needed to learn to stay away from what didn’t belong to him.

Dean slid off the bed and grabbed the keys to the Impala, then crossed to the corner of the room, where he had tossed his jacket. He snatched it up and pulled it on, then automatically checked to see if he had his gun. Check. He had every intention of going back to the bar and beating some sense into _Carson’s_ thick skull.  
_That’s too bad. I was hoping he was single._ Carson’s words in the bar replayed through his mind, and anger flooded him.  
Yeah, that little prick needed someone to teach him a lesson. 

Sam exited the bathroom in time to see Dean opening the door. “Dean?” His brother paused at the sound of his voice, and Sam asked, “Where are you going?”  
“Back to the bar,” the answer was practically a growl, and warning signals went off in Sam’s head. He crossed the room, toward Dean, as he asked, “Why?”  
The other man turned to face him – Sam didn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes flicked over the length of him, surveying him. 

“I’m going to teach that prick at the bar that he shouldn’t fuck with what doesn’t belong to him,” his brother answered. 

"What? No! He was just being friendly –“ 

"He should learn to be less friendly,” came the sharp response.  
Sam let out a brief laugh and shook his head, “I don’t belong to you, Dean.” 

His eyes widened slightly as his brother slammed the door shut and stalked in his direction. Dean’s features were hard as the man reached him and moved into his space. The other man stared at him for a moment, then countered,  
“You’ve been mine from the day you were born, Sam.” 

Sam’s own features softened slightly and he said, “I’m your brother, Dean. That’s all.”  
The smaller man winced slightly at the words and averted his gaze. Sam tried to meet his eyes, but Dean turned away and headed for the door again. 

“Dean!” 

The man paused, back to him, and Sam insisted, “You can’t go beat down some guy because he was friendly with me.”  
“Really?” anger radiated from his brother’s tense form, “That what you think? I can and I will.” 

Sam cursed beneath his breath as Dean jerked the door open and stomped out of the motel room. He ran after him and caught up with him in the parking lot.  
“Dean!” Sam grabbed his arm, and the other man turned to face him, “You can’t –“ 

He trailed off momentarily as he saw the hard look on the other’s face. He hesitated for only a moment before switching tactics,  
“Don’t go. I want you to stay here. With me. We can hang out, watch a movie.”  
His brother searched his face, the anger easing from his features.  
“Please,” Sam whispered, giving his brother what Dean termed his “puppy eyes” and tugging on the other man’s arm. Dean bit his lip, studying him, and nodded yes. Relief flooded him as he pulled Dean toward their shared room: maybe he wouldn’t have to bail his brother out of jail tonight, after all.

Sam grabbed several beers out of the fridge while Dean flipped through the channels. He hesitated a moment, studying his brother: Dean kept shooting glances in his direction, though he was trying to be nonchalant about it. He drew a steadying breath and crossed to sit on the end of his bed. He fought monsters, he could handle his brother’s sudden over-affection. 

He handed one of the beers to Dean and focused on the movie his brother chose. He couldn’t stop his chuckle as he realized it was a horror movie.  
“We don’t see enough of this crap?” he teased.  
“Too much,” the other man smirked at him, “but this time we’re watching someone else deal with it.”  
He kicked off his boots and settled back on his bed, prepared for a night of cheesy, b-rated horror flicks with his big brother. 

 

The following morning found Sam on the phone with Bobby, relaying Dean’s new, more affectionate (and more aggressive) symptoms. His brother had freaked out this morning because he had left the room to get coffee while Dean was still asleep. The other man had been awake and pacing like a caged tiger upon his return, demanding to know where he had gone. He had calmed down after a brief moment, but there had been panic in his brother’s green gaze.

"How bad do you think this will get, Bobby?” Sam paced the walkway in front of the motel room, “Is it going to hurt him?”  
Bobby’s response of “I don’t know yet, Sam, but I’ll keep looking. You may need to go back and find that witch. I’ll let you know something soon. We’ll find out how to beat this,” had been comforting, though he was still concerned. 

When he hung up with Bobby, he ran a hand through his hair. He drew a deep breath, calming himself, and went back into their room before Dean got out of the shower and freaked out about him being gone.


	4. 4.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hunt goes south and Sam lays down some rules. & Dean gets a little feisty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brother/brother make-out in this one.

Two days and a lot of driving found them in Arkansas next. They had come in search of something that was killing local residents who wandered near one of the local cemeteries. 

The hunt started out fine, but had quickly gone bad when they had finally tracked down a pair of ghouls. Dean had been so concerned with Sam’s safety that the second ghoul had gotten the jump on him, knocking him into a gravestone and stunning him. Sam had managed to kick the creature off his brother before the ghoul had the chance to sink its teeth into Dean. A headshot had put the first one down, and Sam had decapitated the second with a machete. 

Now they were sitting in their motel room while Sam cleaned the cut on the back of Dean’s shoulder. 

“No more hunting,” Sam growled as he tended to the cut, “You almost got yourself killed out there, Dean.”  
“I’m fine, Sam, I just slipped up.”  
“No!” Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder and turned the other man to face him, “You were so distracted that you almost got yourself killed!” 

"I was looking out for you—“ 

"And not yourself,” he interrupted angrily, “I was fine, Dean. This can’t – no. No more hunting until you’re yourself again.” His eyes locked with his brother’s, and Dean frowned. He expected the man to continue the argument but, to his surprise, a smile touched Dean’s mouth. 

“You’re hot when you’re angry, Sammy,” the other man practically purred.  
Sam flushed and looked away, then turned his attention back to Dean’s shoulder and muttered, “Let me finish bandaging that cut.” 

When he had finished administering his first aid and had cleaned up, Sam stood and crossed to the mini-fridge. He grabbed several beers out and carried them over to his bed.  
“I mean it,” he handed his brother one of the bottles as he took a seat on the edge of his bed, “We wait until that curse is gone before we do anymore hunting.”  
Dean shifted on his own bed so that he was facing Sam and conceded, “Anything you want, Sam.” 

 

Sam was pulled from sleep several hours later as he felt his mattress shift. He opened his eyes, to find Dean lying next to him.  
“Sa’ matter?” he murmured, still caught up in the dredges of sleep. 

“Cold,” his brother muttered, scooting closer to him. 

Sam sat up in the bed to study his brother by the dim light shining through the gap in the curtains. His brother was bundled in the blanket from his bed but Sam could see that he was still shivering.  
“Cold like you were that first night?” he asked as he pulled his blanket up to drape it over Dean. His brother nodded yes, trying to draw the blankets tighter around him, 

“Can’t get warm.” 

Sam frowned and lay back down, scooting closer to Dean in the process. He hesitated a moment before pulling his brother in his arms, pressing Dean’s back against his chest. He could feel the tremors racking the other man, and it worried him. Was this part of the curse, this chill that his brother couldn’t shake at times? 

He heard Dean sigh softly as the man pressed back against him, and he asked, “Does this help any?”  
“Yeah,” Dean muttered, face almost buried in the blankets, “Helps.”  
“Want me to find some more blankets?”  
“No,” Dean clutched at his arm, which was around the man’s waist, “Don’t leave me.”  
“Okay,” he consoled, rubbing his hand up and down Dean’s arm, trying to help warm him, “I’m not going any place.” 

Dean’s voice was sleepy, muffled, as he muttered, “Good. Good boy.” 

A shiver ran through Sam’s body at the words, but for entirely different reasons. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against his brother’s shoulder, silently cursing himself. 

 

Sunlight was shining through the curtained window when Sam woke the second time. He blinked sleepily and glanced down, to find that he had his arms full of his brother. Dean was facing him, snuggled close to him (and Sam absolutely planned to tease him about the snuggling later, when this curse was gone!). The man’s head was buried under his chin, his arm around Sam’s waist and one leg tossed over Sam’s. 

“Least you made yourself comfortable,” he mumbled quietly, a little embarrassed and a little amused. Dean shifted in his arms when he spoke: a moment later, Sam felt lips pressing against his throat. He jerked in surprise and tried to pull back, but his brother followed. 

“Sammy,” Dean’s voice was husky, mouth pressed against his skin, “Need you.” 

He swallowed hard and started, “Dean—“ 

“Cold without you,” the other man murmured against his skin, “Cold and angry and empty.” 

"It – it’s the curse, Dean."

"Probably,” Dean conceded, nuzzling at his skin, “Still need you.” 

Sam started as his brother’s hand slid beneath his t-shirt to brush his stomach.  
“Dean, stop,” Sam tried to extract himself from his brother’s arms, but Dean shifted suddenly, shoving him onto his back. Moments later, the other man was straddling his hips, the hunger in his green eyes locking Sam in place. 

“Don’t know how much I want you, Sammy,”  
his brother leaned in close, mouth brushing his, and he tried to pull back. He did know. He had wanted to be in this position with the other man for years and years, and now he was here.. and it wasn’t because Dean wanted it. Not without the curse driving him, at least. 

"You – “ Sam’s breath caught momentarily as Dean nipped at his bottom lip, “You want me because of the curse. That’s the only reason. This can’t happen, Dean, it’s not right.” 

“Because we’re brothers?” the answer didn’t really seem to interest Dean, as he was nuzzling along Sam’s jaw line, brushing his mouth against sensitive flesh. 

Sam shivered and tried to force his own libido under control.  
“It would take advantage of you,” he answered, pressing his hands against Dean’s chest to push him away, “and yeah, because we’re brothers.” 

The other man caught his wrists and pushed them down on the bed, pinning them above Sam’s head.  
“Let me take advantage of you,” Dean threw his words back at him, his voice almost a purr.  
He bit his bottom lip as his brother’s hips pressed against his own; he could feel just how much Dean wanted this. Rather, how much the curse was making Dean want this. He had to remember that it was a curse driving his brother, not genuine desire. 

"Dean, sto-“ 

The other man’s mouth pressed against his own, stealing his words. He tried to raise up, to push his brother off him, but Dean had a firm grip on his wrists. 

“I’ll make you feel good, Sammy,” the words were a promise against his mouth, “Do anything you want.”  
“Stop,” his own voice was a whisper now; he knew he was failing, here. He needed to tell his brother that this couldn’t happen, he needed to stop it because this wasn’t actual consent on Dean’s behalf. He couldn’t force the conviction in his words, though, as Dean’s tongue trailed along his bottom lip. 

Sam couldn’t hold back the soft whimper that escaped his throat as his brother deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth. The other man heard it and growled softly, allowing his mouth and tongue to claim and own Sam’s. He tried to think, tried to tell himself to stop this from happening, but his thoughts scattered as Dean’s hips pressed against his own. 

“Like that, Sammy?” his brother pulled back slightly to smile down at him, “You taste so good, baby boy.” 

He gasped softly, barely, at the nick name, a shiver running through him. His brother didn’t miss it, and his smile grew more predatory. Dean’s hips pressed hard against his own again, and Sam couldn’t stop himself from arching into the other man. 

“My baby boy likes this,” the words were a purr near his ear as a hand released one of his wrists to grab his hip. 

“Dean – “ Sam tried, shivering again as the other nipped his earlobe. 

"Love to hear you say my name, Sammy. Want to make you feel so fucking good.” Dean’s voice was honey and sex, and Sam knew he was screwed. 

 

Both men started as a knock sounded at the door. Dean was off of Sam and out of the bed in a flash, reaching under his own mattress for his gun.  
Sam watched as he approached the door and, putting the gun against the wood at head level, called, “Who is it?”  
“Housekeeping,” a woman’s voice, sounding both tired and bored, responded, “Checkout is in half an hour, unless you wanna be charged extra.”  
They heard footsteps as she moved away from their door. 

Sam slid out of the bed as Dean turned away from the door. The two eyed one another for a long moment; Sam looked away first, face flushing, and turned to grab his duffel bag,  
“We should get out of here.” 

He could feel his brother’s eyes on him as he grabbed a change of clothing and went into the bathroom.


	5. 5.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealous Dean.

Sam pulled into a gas station to fuel up the Impala and grab another cup of coffee. He had made an executive decision to drive when Dean had started looking more at him than the highway. His demand of ‘pull over and give me the keys’ had been met only with a simple, ‘ _Anything you want, Sammy_.’ He glanced at his brother, who was staring out the window, before getting out of the car. 

Sam finished pumping the gas and was heading into the station to pay for it, when his brother joined him. They were both used to living a life of constant vigilance, and Sam didn’t miss the fact that Dean was casing the place with his eyes as they entered. He also noticed when his brother smoothly moved between he and two men who were standing near the coffee station. 

“Want something?” he questioned as he moved to one of the coffee machines. He glanced over at Dean’s soft-spoken “yeah”, to find the other man’s gaze on him. He couldn’t stop himself from flushing and looking away. 

“C-coffee,” he muttered, grabbing a second cup, “You want some coffee?” 

“Yeah, anything,” Dean agreed, eyes flicking to the men standing near them, gauging their threat factor. Satisfied that they were keeping their distance, he shifted his gaze elsewhere. 

 

Sam approached the counter with their coffee and some snacks, his brother in tow. The girl behind the counter was a pretty blonde with lots of curves; Sam expected Dean to turn his charm on her. He glanced at his brother; instead of giving her a charming smile, Dean was glaring at the girl. 

He elbowed the other man, his brow furrowed, and Dean glanced away from the cashier. She rang them up quickly and gave Sam their total, and he handed her several bills. She gave him a smile with his change, her fingers brushing against his own. Sam returned the smile, but it disappeared as his brother growled,  
“You get handsy with all your customers?” 

“Dean,” he hissed, giving his brother a warning look, “Why don’t you go wait in the car?” 

The other man frowned, and Sam put a little more authority in his voice, “Now.” 

“Fine,” his brother growled, throwing a last glare at the girl behind the counter. Moments later, he was storming out the door. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam apologized, “He’s – a little cranky. Not feeling well. Long drive.”  
“It’s okay,” she smiled sympathetically, “Traveling long distances does that to a lot of people. Hope he feels better.”  
“Thanks,” Sam shot her another smile and turned to leave the gas station.

He exited, to see his brother leaning against the passenger door.  
“What the hell, Dean?” he demanded quietly as he reached the other man, “That was rude.” 

Dean glared at him for a moment, but suddenly his features fell. “Sorry,” he muttered, dropping his eyes to the ground, “I – I don’t know why I did that. I’m sorry, Sam.” 

Sam sighed and moved around the car to get behind the wheel. Once inside, he glanced over at his brother. “We need to get rid of that curse. You’re getting more aggressive.” 

“Sorry,” came the soft apology, “I don’t mean it, I just say things..”  
Dean swallowed, his eyes on the dashboard. 

“I know, Dean,” Sam reached out and laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and Dean closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. He squeezed lightly before pulling away and starting the car.  
“Do we go to Bobby’s? Or after the witch?” 

"Anything you want, Sam.” 

Sam studied the other man for a moment before coming to a decision. “The witch it is, then."

They were close to the Arkansas state line when Dean leaned over the front seat and grabbed a blanket from the back. Sam glanced at him as he pulled the blanket around him.  
“Cold?” he asked over the radio, eyes shifting back to the highway. 

“No. Yeah. A little,” his brother muttered, resting his head against the passenger window, “Tired.” 

“Get some sleep,” he suggested, “I’m good to drive. I’ll stop when I’m tired.”  
Dean nodded and closed his eyes, tugging the blanket tighter around his shoulders. 

Less than an hour had passed when a sound caught Sam’s attention. He frowned, brows furrowed, as he tried to place it. It wasn’t very loud, but it was distracting. He turned off the radio as he listened and, a moment later, glanced over at Dean. 

His brother was wrapped tightly in the blanket he had retrieved, his head resting against the window and his eyes closed. Sam realized that the sound he had heard was the sound of Dean’s teeth chattering. He glanced ahead at the road, checking for traffic, before turning his gaze back to Dean. His brother appeared to be trembling beneath his blanket. 

“Dean,” Sam spoke, and his brother opened his eyes, “You okay?” 

The other man stared at him for a moment before nodding yes. 

“You’re cold,” it was a statement, not a question, and Dean nodded yes again. 

“Why didn’t you turn the heat on?” he reached over to switch on the heat, hoping to offer his brother some warmth. He was fine with the current temperature, but his brother obviously wasn’t. 

“Dunno,” Dean muttered in response, his voice slightly hoarse.  
Sam reached over and placed a hand against Dean’s forehead – the other man didn’t feel feverish. He realized that his brother was leaning into his touch, and he slid his hand down to Dean’s face. After several moments, he pulled his hand away, and Dean frowned and closed his eyes again.

Dean was still shivering several minutes later, even with the heat on. Sam shifted his attention between the highway and his brother, concerned for Dean. 

“Come here,” he finally instructed the other man. 

Dean opened his eyes to look at him, and Sam patted the seat next to him. “Come here, Dean.” 

His brother stared at him for a moment, before obeying and sliding across the seat. Sam slid his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders when Dean reached him, and pulled him against his side. The sound his brother made as Dean leaned into him was close to a whimper, and Sam felt a pang in his chest. He tightened his hold, rubbing his hand up and down Dean’s arm, and the other snuggled into him. 

"This helps?"

Dean nodded against his shoulder and murmured,  
“Yeah. Cold without you.” 

Sam frowned at the words his brother had spoken before: he would have to mention that to Bobby when he called the man again. He tensed momentarily as Dean shifted to better face him and slid an arm around his waist, but relaxed when that was all the man did. He turned his attention to the highway, almost absently rubbing Dean’s arm as he drove. 

Several minutes had passed when he realized that not only had the man’s shivering stopped, but his brother was asleep. He hesitated as he glanced down at his brother; after a moment, he gave in to the urge and kissed his sleeping brother on top of the head.

 

They were an hour into Oklahoma when Sam stopped to get a room for the night. He had cut the engine, untangled himself from his sleeping brother, and was about to get out of the car, when a hand grabbed his arm. 

“Where you going?” his brother asked, blinking away sleep.  
“I’m going to get us a room.” 

“I’ll go with you,”  
Dean started to disentangle himself from his blanket but paused as Sam said,  
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” 

The man stared at him, something close to panic in his eyes, and Sam repeated softly,  
“I’ll be right back. I promise.”  
Dean nodded after a moment, and Sam climbed out of the car.

When he returned ten minutes later and opened the door, he found Dean staring at him. The man was chewing his thumbnail, his left knee bouncing. Sam got in the car and turned to face his brother, only to find himself with an arm full of the other man. 

“Told you I would be back,” he soothed gently, raising a hand to stroke Dean’s hair.  
“Don’t like you out of my sight,” Dean muttered, pulling back slightly to glance at him, “It – it’s this fucking curse. It – I know I’m a pain in the ass, I’m sorry, I’m – “ 

“It’s okay, Dean,”  
he laid a hand against the other man’s cheek, trying to offer him some comfort. Dean leaned into the touch, which he expected by now.  
“There are a couple of places to eat up the street. How about we swing through the drive-through and grab something, and bring it back here.” 

His brother nodded in agreement and whispered,  
“Anything you want.” 

Sam studied him for a moment – it was both disconcerting and concerning that his brother’s increasingly out-of-character behavior was alternating between aggressive and complacent. He nodded and started the car, and didn’t say anything when Dean pressed into his side again.

The brothers were sitting at an ugly orange table in their equally ugly orange-and-blue motel room a short while later, eating fast food. Sam was eating, at least; he had had to remind Dean twice now to eat. The other man kept getting distracted, staring at him. It made him feel both awkward and pleased: he wouldn’t admit it aloud, ever, but he enjoyed being the focus of his brother’s attention. He did when Dean wasn’t pissed, at least. 

Sam glanced at his cell phone as it started ringing, to see Bobby’s name on the display screen.  
“It’s Bobby,” he informed his brother. Hopeful that the man had some helpful news for them, he picked it up and answered it,  
“Hey Bobby.” 

_"Sam. How’s it going?"_

"It – “ Sam paused and glanced at Dean, who was watching him, “It’s going. We’re managing."

_"Dean?"_

"He’s – it seems to be affecting him more. He’s still trying to.. be really affectionate. He freaks out if I’m out of his sight. Gets angry if anyone speaks to me. And he’s still having those weird cold spells. Said he’s cold when I’m not with him.” 

_"I haven’t pinpointed any one specific spell with these symptoms yet. Sounds like that witch put some kind of binding spell on Dean, which bound him to you. A binding that’s more along the lines of a love spell than the type you did on her."_

"So we need to find the witch?"

_"You need to find the witch.”_

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We’re headed in that direction, should be there in a couple of days. Thanks, Bobby."

_"You boys need anything, you give me a call.”_

Sam disconnected and laid down the phone, his thoughts on the information Bobby had given him. He raised his eyes and found that his brother was still watching him. The look in Dean’s eyes was a mixture of devotion and what he could only define as lust. Sam swallowed nervously and shot his brother a slight smile. 

“Looks like we need to find that witch,” he informed.  
Dean didn’t answer, only continued to stare at him.  
“Dean?” 

“Anything you want, Sammy,” the man finally spoke, his voice low and slightly wrecked. 

Sam studied him for a moment before asking, “You okay?” 

“Yeah. No. I don’t know,” the other admitted quietly, “I – don’t know. I can’t stop looking at you.” 

A nervous laugh escaped Sam and he agreed, “I noticed.” 

“Getting harder and harder to keep my hands to myself, Sam,” Dean sighed and ran a hand through his short hair, “Maybe – maybe I should get a different room.” 

Sam shook his head no before his brother had finished the sentence: even speaking the words seemed to pain the other man.  
“I need to be able to keep an eye on you. What if your symptoms get worse?” 

“Sam..” the other man hesitated, “I don’t want to do something we’ll both regret later. I’m not sure I’m thinking clearly when – when it starts overwhelming me.” 

“Not happening, Dean. I need to know if you get worse, or if you get sick, or – well, anything.” 

His brother swallowed but nodded, conceding. Sam wasn’t certain if it was because his argument was sound, or because Dean simply wanted to make him happy.

 

Sam woke early the following morning, after a fitful sleep. He slipped out of the bed and moved to the coffee pot on the small dresser, stifling a yawn as he did. He plugged the small coffee maker up and hit the power switch, but nothing happened. He frowned and flicked the switch again: still nothing. After attempting to unplug and re-plug it, and trying the power switch several more times, he gave it up as a lost cause. There was a coffee shop across the street, he would just have to run and get their morning caffeine. 

Sam exited the bathroom a short while later, showered and dressed. He glanced over at the bed his brother occupied, to see that Dean was still sleeping. It shouldn’t take more than 15 minutes to run across the street and grab some coffee… 

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard,  
“Where you going?” 

Sam turned, to see that Dean was sitting up in the bed.  
“Morning,” he greeted, “I’m just running out to –“ 

“You’re leaving?” the other man interrupted, shoving back the bed covers and getting out of the bed, “You’re leaving me?” 

Sam’s brows shot up at his brother’s words, “I’m just going to get some coffee, Dean.” 

“Meeting someone?” anger traced the other man’s voice suddenly as Dean moved toward him. 

“What? No! I was – “ Sam paused as Dean moved into his personal space, “- just going to get some coffee, Dean.” 

He stared down at his brother, brows furrowed, as Dean placed a hand on his chest and lightly pushed him back against the door.  
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” the other man asked softly, hand resting against his chest.  
“Why would I, Dean?” he countered, exasperated, “I’m just going across the street to get coffee. There’s no need to freak out like this.”  
He glanced down at his older sibling, to find that Dean’s eyes were riveted to his mouth.


	6. 6.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn. Wincest. M/M. Don't like, flee now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting two chapters tonight, since I didn't get to post last night.

"Wanna kiss you, Sammy."

The soft words made Sam swallow hard. He wanted to allow it. He wanted to let his brother kiss him senseless. He wanted it but he couldn’t. He couldn’t take advantage of his brother that way, and he couldn’t reveal his own feelings, if he hadn’t already when Dean had straddled him and kissed him in his bed. He wasn’t certain if Dean would even remember any of his actions after this curse was broken, but he couldn’t risk it. He pressed back against the door, trying to put a little space between them. He dropped his gaze to Dean’s hand as the man slid it down his chest, to his stomach. 

"Please, Sammy,” his brother’s voice was a soft plea, “Hurts to look at you, to touch you, and not be able to hold you or kiss you. It – “   
the other man shut his eyes for a moment; there was pain in them when he opened them again,   
“It’s killing me inside, Sam. I know it – it’s wrong. You don’t want it, I know it’s the curse. It –“   
Dean shook his head, struggling with the words, and finally finished with,   
“It’s killing me inside. I’m just.. just cold, and angry, and empty, without you.” 

Their eyes met, and Sam saw the pain and the desperation in his brother’s green gaze. “Okay, Dean,” he whispered.   
His brother stared at him, hope touching his features, and Sam felt that pang in his chest again. 

His brother had been protecting him his whole life: the hell if he was going to let the other man suffer, when he could help him. 

He raised a hand to the back of Dean’s head and stroked his hair for a moment. He gently tangled his fingers in the other man’s short locks and tugged him forward. Dean came willingly, eyes sliding closed and hands moving to Sam’s hips. Sam stared down at his brother for a moment – this wasn’t going to end well, it couldn’t end well, Dean would hate him when all was said and done. He closed his eyes and, with a silent ‘fuck it’, pulled the other man to him.

 

Having Sam pull him close and press their mouths together was heaven for Dean. He couldn’t stop his soft moan as his brother’s lips brushed his own. He had been craving this, aching for it, for days and days. He knew it wasn’t what Sam wanted, he knew his brother was doing it for his sake alone, and he knew he shouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t stop himself from nipping at Sam’s mouth, though. Couldn’t stop him self from tracing along the other man’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, before licking into the warmth of his mouth. 

He felt more than heard the gasp that escaped his brother’s lips, and a low growl escaped him. He pulled Sam closer, one hand moving from his hip to the back of the taller man’s head.   
He tangled his fingers in Sam’s longish locks, which were soft and beautiful and he could run his fingers through that hair for days and days.   
He tugged his brother’s hair, pulling him closer as he shifted, finding a better angle to deepen the kiss. 

Dean found his brother’s tongue and caressed it with his own, tasting and exploring. He felt the shiver which ran through Sam as he began to suck it lightly, heard his little brother’s soft whimper, and it sent sparks through his own body. He shifted closer, pressing his thigh against Sam’s groin, and found that the other man was hard. 

That fueled Dean’s own hunger. He had been hard from the moment he had touched Sam, but knowing the other was, as well, filled him with an odd euphoria. 

“Need you so bad, Sammy,” he murmured against his brother’s mouth, interspersing the words with soft kisses, “Love the way you taste.” 

He allowed his hand to brush down Sam’s hip, tugging him closer; the other man gasped again as Dean’s hand brushed his groin.   
“Love to touch you, baby boy,” he breathed as he nipped at Sam’s throat, “Let me make you feel good, Sammy.” 

“Dean,” his brother’s voice was a broken whisper, lips kiss-swollen and his pupils blown: he was gorgeous.   
A soft growl escaped his throat and he pulled Sam to him again, catching his mouth in a hungry kiss. He backed toward the beds as he claimed Sam’s mouth, leading his brother with him.

 

One moment he was on his feet, the next he was flat on his back on one of the beds.   
Sam blinked up at Dean and opened his mouth to protest, but the older man leaned down and captured his lips before he could speak. 

Sam tried to fight his building desire to let Dean do whatever he wanted with him but, as the other man straddled his hips and pressed their groins together, he knew it was a lost cause. 

“Love you so much, baby boy,”   
Dean’s words, murmured against his lips, sent shivers through him,  
“Want you so much.” 

He watched, half-dazed from Dean’s kisses and the fierceness of his own hunger for the other man, as his brother pulled back and pulled off his shirt. Sam stared at the man, drinking in his body: his brother was a beautiful creature. 

“Dean,” his voice was barely more than a whisper, and the other's green gaze locked which his own.

The other man smiled down at him and, pulling him up slightly, tugged his own shirt until it was discarded on the floor.   
“You’re perfect, Sammy,” there was awe in the other’s voice, “Fucking perfect. I’ve wanted you for forever.” 

He closed his eyes, trying to hide the effect those words had on him. He knew they weren’t true, but he wanted to let himself believe it, if only for a little while.   
That part of his brain that still retained a touch of common sense told him to put a stop to this _right now_ , but he ignored it.   
How could he listen to that voice when his brother was straddling his waist, half-naked and hungering for him. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of himself. He knew he was making a poor choice here: he was taking advantage of the curse on his brother, and he was risking their relationship. He needed to stop this.

Dean’s lips brushed his ear, nipping lightly, and the other man whispered, “Wanna fuck you, Sammy."

Sam couldn’t hold back his soft moan at the words, his hands finding and clutching Dean’s hips. He was so screwed. He was lost, and he knew it, as Dean’s hands roamed his body, followed moments later by his mouth. 

A shiver of pleasure ran through the younger man as he felt his brother’s mouth on him, sucking his nipple. He felt teeth nip hard at his chest and he had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from begging for more. He told himself again that he needed to stop this, but he couldn’t seem to make himself. 

His brother caught his gaze and held it: Dean watched him as he held himself up with one arm, the other hand digging into Sam’s hip, and thrust his rock-hard dick against Sam’s groin. Sam whimpered in pleasure, arching against his brother: he opened his eyes as he felt the man’s hand at the waist of his pants. Seconds later, Dean had his pants undone and open, and was wrapping his fingers around his hard cock. The man groaned and rocked against him, hunger etched in his features.

"Dean, please,” Sam’s voice was wrecked, his body aching for the other man. 

His brother growled, low and hungry, as he spoke his name, and reached between them to free his own hard cock from the confines of his boxers. The other’s hand slid up and down his cock, thumb brushing over the head, which was slick now with pre-cum. 

“Fuck,” Sam muttered in pleasure, rocking forward into the exploring hands. It had been far too long since he had been touched like this, and he was far too horny. He shuddered again as Dean whispered,   
“Want you to cum for me, Sammy.” 

Dean leaned forward, caught his right nipple in his mouth and started sucking it. He pressed their cocks together, grasping both in one hand to rub them together. Sam almost lost it then; he arched hard against his brother with a low groan. His eyes met his brother’s lust-filled gaze as the other man stroked him. 

Dean growled in pleasure as Sam arched against him, and tangled his fingers in his brother’s hair. A soft gasp escaped Sam as he jerked the other man’s head back. He leaned in to growl in the other’s ear as he thrust his cock against Sam’s,   
“You want me to fuck you, baby boy? You want big brother’s cum?” 

“Yes,” came the whispered answer as the man beneath him spread his legs wider.   
Dean groaned out a soft ‘fuck, yeah’ and shifted so that he was sitting on Sam’s thighs, pinning his cock between them. He released Sam’s hair, then grabbed his own cock and started stroking; at the same time, he rubbed his thumb over the head of Sam’s leaking dick. 

His little brother whimpered and tried to arch into his hand, but was pinned. He rubbed his thumb over the head of his own dick as he stroked with the other hand, wetting it with his slick. Leaning forward, he shoved his thumb into his brother’s mouth. He growled as Sam started sucking it like he was starving, a soft, hungry sound escaping his throat. 

He pulled it free with a wet pop, wiped it across his cock head again to gather more leaking pre-cum, shoved it back in. Sam sucked hard on it, wrapping his tongue around it to gather every drop, and he shuddered hard in pleasure. He leaned in to whisper in the other man’s ear, his voice low, husky, practically sex itself,   
“You want me to fuck your mouth, baby boy?” 

A long, low moan, followed by “Yes”, and Dean couldn’t hold back any longer. He let out a cry of pleasure as he started cumming hard, painting Sam’s chest and stomach with his seed. Sam’s cry echoed his own as his brother started cumming, too. Dean aimed his spurting dick at his brother’s face, hit him in the mouth, growled as he watched Sam lick his lips clean and open his mouth for more. He rubbed his still-hard cock in the mixture of his and Sam’s cum, which was painting the other’s stomach and chest. Shifting forward, he pressed the cum-covered head of his dick against the other man’s lips. 

“Fuck,” Dean couldn’t hold back his hungry growl as Sam opened with a hungry moan and began licking him clean, pressing the tip of his tongue in the slit of his dick. 

After several moments, he rolled off his brother to lie on the bed beside him. He could hear Sam's uneven breathing – he was still trying to catch his own breath. He leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed his discarded t-shirt. He used it to wipe down his brother’s torso, then his own. Dean tossed the shirt away before he rolled onto his side and, pulling Sam to him, kissed him softly. He pulled his brother close to hold him, murmuring near his ear,   
“Love you, Sammy, so fucking much. You’re everything to me. Everything."

Sam closed his eyes and buried his face against his brother’s shoulder at Dean’s whispered declarations of love. He wanted to believe them, wanted to believe that they were genuine and not only because of a curse. He knew it wasn’t true, and it caused an ache in his chest. He sighed against his brother’s skin. He had fucked up royally, hadn’t he? What had just happened had been the hottest moment of his entire life.. and he couldn’t be certain that it was consensual. Obviously his brother had wanted it to happen, but his brother was also under some crazy witch’s spell, and being driven to do these things. Sam bit his lip, unable to shake the thought that Dean was going to hate him when this mess was over.

He raised his eyes to his brother as Dean whispered,   
“Sammy?” 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, not quite certain as to what he was supposed to do now. He had just had hot sex. With his brother. His brother, whom had been cursed with some kind of love spell. What did one do after having hot sex with one’s cursed brother? Take a nap? 

He gave himself a mental shake, eyes focusing fully on Dean, as the other man whispered,   
“Are – are you pissed? At me?”   
He saw Dean swallow in apprehension, and the uncertainty in the other man’s eyes. 

“No,” he said softly, raising a hand to brush a finger down Dean’s cheek, “I’m not pissed.”   
“It was – “ Dean hesitated, worrying at his bottom lip for a moment with his teeth, “It was okay?”   
“Yeah, Dean. It was good. It – really good.”   
The other man relaxed visibly and tugged him closer, sliding his arm around his waist. 

"You love me, Sammy?” 

The question was a whisper, barely audible, and Sam closed his eyes briefly before turning his gaze to Dean.   
“You know I do, Dean.”   
He smiled as Dean shot him a pleased grin. 

Sam gazed fondly at his brother as the other man rested his head against his chest and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t mind falling asleep like this every night. He knew that wasn’t going to happen – Dean would probably hate him by the end of this – but it didn’t stop him from wanting it. Sam cursed beneath his breath: he had spent years denying his feelings for his brother, and hiding them when he couldn’t deny them. Now they were surfacing again and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

 

Sam woke the following morning to Dean’s tongue on his cock, licking along his hard shaft. It was unexpected (though maybe it shouldn’t have been, after last night), and Sam wasn’t certain how to react. He knew he should push the other man away, but it felt good. Really, really good. 

“Fuck,” the word was a barely-audible whisper as he tangled his hands in his brother’s hair, pulling him closer.   
He felt Dean’s fingers tracing along his shaft; a moment later, they were wrapping around his dick.   
“Dean, stop..” the words trailed off into a low groan as his brother’s mouth was suddenly on his cock, licking and sucking at the head. 

He reacted without thought and pulled the other man’s head closer, shoved his dick deeper into his hot mouth; the gagging sound that followed sent a wave of sympathy and lust through him. He was fairly certain that his brother had never sucked anyone off before. He pulled out of Dean’s mouth, and looked down at the other man. Dean’s lips were red, parted, breathing unsteady and eyes glazed with lust. 

“Fuck my mouth,”  
the man’s plea caused his cock to twitch, pre-cum leaking from the head. 

He rubbed his dick against his brother’s parted lips, smearing them with pre-cum; a low growl escaped his throat as the other licked them clean. He shook his head, tried to regain control of himself; his eyes shifted downward as Dean leaned in to trail his tongue up Sam’s hard shaft. The man groaned as Dean’s fingers rubbed his balls, squeezed them lightly; the groan turned into a growl as Dean repeated,   
“Fuck my mouth, Sammy.” 

The sliver of control he had dissipated at the words and he shoved his dick between the parted, wet lips. His brother gagged slightly as he pushed in, but fought through it to suck on him. Dean’s pleased hum sent vibrations up his shaft and he cursed softly, shivers of pleasure coursing through him. His fingers tightened in Dean’s short hair as his brother rubbed and caressed his balls, mouth and tongue working his throbbing dick. 

“You like this?” he asked, his voice unsteady, and Dean moaned against his shaft, nodding his head as he sucked him.

He traced his fingertips down the other man’s face, and his brother hummed again in pleasure. Sam almost lost it as Dean pulled off him and whispered,   
“Cum for me, baby boy. Want to taste you.” 

He took him in again as he stroked him and, moments later, Sam was arching into Dean’s mouth with a groan of pleasure. Dean brushed his fingers down his shaft to squeeze his balls lightly, and Sam exploded with a pleasured cry, shooting into his brother’s mouth. Dean choked slightly, pulled off a bit, went back down on him. Tremors of pleasure racked his body as his brother drank down what he could, then proceeded to lick him clean. 

When he finally pulled off, the other man looked up at him with a satisfied smile.   
“Taste so good, Sammy.”   
His brother shifted off him, moving up to brush their mouths together. 

“Dean,” he whispered, meeting his brother’s gaze. He fell silent, unable to speak the words he wanted to say. 

“Want to make you feel good all the time,”   
the other man whispered, running his fingers through Sam’s hair. 

Sam closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the gentle touches for a moment. He swallowed and opened them again,   
“I can –“ he hesitated, uncertain, “- can do it for you..” 

The other man shot him a grin and murmured, “Got off while I was sucking you.” 

“Did you?” Sam couldn’t help himself: he slid an arm around his brother’s waist and pulled him close for a kiss. Dean made a sound of pleasure, returning the kiss eagerly. 

When they parted, he sighed softly and whispered,   
“We shouldn’t be doing this, Dean.” 

“I know,” the other man murmured, running his fingers through Sam’s hair again,   
“Feel empty without you though, Sammy. Just need to be close to you.” 

His brother rested his head on his chest, and it was Sam’s turn to stroke his fingers through Dean’s hair.   
“You might not feel the same once the curse is broken,” he said, not quite succeeding in keeping the tremor out of his voice, “You’re going to hate me.” 

Dean rose up to look him in the eyes. “I could never hate you, Sam,” the other man said somberly and sincerely, “Never. I love you too much.” 

Sam nodded and pulled his brother to him again: he could only hope that his brother could forgive him for allowing all of this to happen, when all was said and done.


	7. 7.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers find the witch, but -- .

Three days later, they reached Hildale, Utah, where they had encountered the janara the first time. They stopped for a bite to eat shortly after they hit town and to discuss their options, regarding the witch.

There was an awkward moment in the restaurant, when the waitress spoke to Sam to take his order, and Dean practically growled at her. He apologized for his brother, claiming Dean was tired from the road. He left a larger than average tip when they left in an attempt to make up for his brother’s crankiness.

"Do we have a plan for dealing with this bitch?” Dean asked as left the diner-style restaurant and headed for the car. 

“Uh,” Sam glanced at the other man before shrugging a shoulder, “We go in and ask her to lift the curse?” 

“Good plan, Sam,” sarcasm traced his brother’s voice, and Sam shot him a grin. It was good to hear a bit of Dean in, well, Dean. 

“I’m open to suggestions,” he retorted as he pulled the Impala’s keys from his pocket. 

“Mm,” Dean’s gaze scanned the length of his body, “I can give you some suggestions.” 

He glanced at his brother, and couldn’t help the flush that touched his face as he caught the look in the other man’s eyes.  
“I meant about dealing with the witch.”  
“Rather deal with you,” Dean murmured, moving around the car toward him. 

Sam swallowed and watched his brother approach; it took him a moment to remember why they were there.  
“Later,” he said, “Right now we need to focus on breaking your curse.” 

The other man reached him, and Sam raised a hand and placed it against Dean’s cheek.  
“Later,” he repeated, afraid that if Dean pressed the issue, he wouldn’t have the will power to say no. 

Dean leaned into his touch, eyes closed, and whispered, “Anything you want, Sammy.” 

The curse made his brother more agreeable, that was certain. No, not agreeable. Compliant. Dean was giving him what he wanted, and he guessed it was because the other man was driven by the witch’s spell to do so.

Two hours later, the brothers entered a local flower shop. The bell above the door jingled as they entered, and the woman at the counter, whose back was to them, turned to face them. 

“Can I help you?” her lovely smile faded as she recognized them, “Oh. It’s the magic-binding brothers. What do you want?” 

Sam glanced around the shop, which appeared to be empty of other customers.  
“Are we alone?” he asked, his eyes shifting to the curtain that separated the front of the store from the back. 

“Yes,” the witch started. Her eyes widened as Dean locked the shop door and flipped the sign to ‘Closed’. Her gaze moved to Sam as he gave her a smile and said,  
“We need to talk. April, was it?” 

The witch, April, frowned and stared at him for a long moment. “Fine,” she muttered, leading the way through the curtain, to the back of the store.

"What do you want?” the woman turned to them once they were in the store’s greenhouse. 

“What did you do to my brother?” Sam asked her. 

A smirk touched her lips as she glanced from one brother to the next. “Just a little binding spell of my own,” she answered, “before you finished binding my magic.”  
“Huh,” Sam nodded, “Lift it.”  
“Can’t do that, sweets,” she raised her chin, her smile widening. 

The brothers exchanged a glance, and Sam nodded slightly. Moments later, Dean had the witch shoved back against the wall with a knife to her throat. 

“Masters of unspoken communication, aren’t you?” April tried to cover her surprise and fear, but it was obvious, written in her features. She glanced at Dean as he spoke,  
“Lift the curse, and I won’t cut your throat.”  
“I can’t,” she drew back as much as possible, trying to put distance between them. Given that she was pinned against the wall, she didn’t move far.

"Can’t? Or won’t?” Sam demanded as he stepped forward, jaw clenched as he tried to hold back his anger. 

“Can’t,” the woman repeated, shooting a nervous look at Dean as he pressed the knife against her skin, “You bound my magic, remember? Even if I had free use of it again, I couldn’t. You have to break it yourselves.” 

“Okay,” Sam’s voice was almost a growl, “How do we break it ourselves?” 

She shot him a smirk as she replied, “You have to give him what he desires the most. What he wants most in his heart.” 

“Are you freaking kidding me?” exasperation touched Dean’s voice, “We’re not in a damn Disney movie here. Break the curse!” 

“I can’t!” Real fear touched her voice this time as she took in the anger on Dean’s face, “I’m serious. That’s how you can break it.”  
Her eyes shifted to Sam, “Figure out what he wants most and once he has it, the curse will be lifted.” 

“You knew what this curse would do,” Dean growled, his grip on the knife tightening, “You knew we were brothers. You did it anyway.” 

“Sorry sweetie,” she shot back, the bravado in her voice not quite matching the fright in her eyes, “You were trying to bind my magic. Desperate times.” 

“You were killing people with your magic!” 

“I wasn’t!” the woman denied angrily, “Okay, that idiot at the law office committed suicide, but that wasn’t my intention! His wife wanted payback because he was cheating so I cast a little bitty love spell. We didn’t know he would snap!” 

Sam stepped forward and laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder. The other man relaxed immediately and stepped away from the witch, sheathing his knife as he did. He growled, low in his throat, as the witch moved away from the wall, her gaze on Sam.  
“Don’t you even look at my brother,” the man warned as he stepped between her and Sam. 

“Mm,” April shove them an assessing glance, focusing first on Dean and then on Sam, “You do have quite the hold on him, don’t you?” She fell silent as Sam glared at her. 

“If we find out you’re lying about this,” he warned, “We will come back, and I’ll end you myself.” 

She blinked at him and, realizing that his threat was real, said, “I’m not lying. You have to break it yourselves.” 

He studied her for a moment – maybe it was the genuine fear in her eyes as she glanced at Dean again, or maybe that she seemed sincere when she said it, but he believed her. He touched Dean’s arm and said, “Let’s go, Dean,” and turned toward the front of the store. His brother followed immediately, shooting a last warning look at the janara. 

 

They left the flower shop and crossed the street, toward the Impala. 

“Now what?” Dean asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted as they reached the car. He turned to face his brother, “I guess we keep working on breaking this thing. We’ll head to Bobby’s and see if he has any new ideas."

Dean nodded and climbed into the passenger seat as Sam moved around the car. When he started the engine, his brother glanced out the passenger window and muttered,  
“Let’s get the hell out of this town."

A while after leaving Hildale, Sam glanced over at Dean. The other man hadn’t spoken in the last hour, and had been alternating between staring at him and staring out the passenger window.

“Dean,” Sam reached to turn off the radio, “You okay?”

The other man’s gaze shifted to him. Sam felt his cheeks heat up a bit as his brother ran his eyes over him.

“Yeah,” came the answer after several moments, “Sorry we couldn’t break this thing. I know you wanted that.”

"You don’t?” he glanced away from the road to look at his brother.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, “Yeah. I think I do.” The man glanced away, “I don’t know. It – it makes my head wonky, this thing.”

He nodded and they both fell silent for several minutes, lost in their own thoughts. 

Sam glanced over as Dean shifted, moving slightly closer to him. The other man shot him a glance, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Can I -?” Dean started.  
The man fell silent for a moment in hesitation. He finally resorted to waving his hand a bit – Sam assumed he was indicating the space between them.

"You want to move closer?” 

His brother quickly nodded, eyes dropping to the seat.

“You can move closer, Dean,”  
he couldn’t keep the trace of amusement out of his voice. Dean shot him a momentarily glare, but scooted across the seat. He moved close enough for their shoulders to brush, his eyes on Sam. Sam shot him a smile and turned his attention back to the highway ahead.

Sam started, jerking the steering wheel and causing the car to swerve a bit, as Dean leaned in and pressed his lips against his neck.  
“Don’t wreck my car, Sam,” the man murmured against his skin. 

“Dean –“ Sam shot a sidelong glance at his brother, “Trying to drive here, man."  
“Don’t let me distract you,” the other man trailed his tongue up the side of Sam’s neck.

“It’s – it’s a little hard to not be distracted when you’re doing that,” his voice was slightly breathless as the man trailed a path up his jaw, to his ear. 

“Like it?” 

His brother’s voice was a purr in his head, and he shivered at the sound of it. He wanted to answer yes, and tell the other man to keep going. Instead, he placed a hand on his brother’s chest and gently shoved him away. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Dean.” 

The hurt look on Dean’s face caused his throat to tighten and his chest to ache.

“You want it now,” he continued, trying to keep his voice steady, “but when we break the curse, you’re going to regret it. You’re going to be angry with me for – for allowing anything to happen. For what we’ve done already.”

Dean glanced at him and looked away again: the sadness in his eyes made Sam’s heart ache.

“Dean..” 

"Can’t think straight, Sam,” the other man told him as he stared down at his hands, “You’re all I think about. Just want to be near you all the time.” 

He reached over and grabbed the shoulder of Dean’s shirt, pulling the man against him.  
“Come here,” he whispered, sliding an arm around Dean’s shoulders. Dean let out a sigh and buried his face against Sam’s shoulder. 

 

Night had fallen when they stopped for gas. Sam was filling the tank when he spotted a Texas Roadhouse across the street. Dean exited the gas station, having gone inside to pay for the gas, and he glanced at him and asked,  
“Dinner?”

He nodded to the Roadhouse, and Dean followed his gaze.

The other man shrugged a shoulder and agreed,  
“Whatever you want.”

When he was finished pumping the gas, they got in the car and drove across the street, to the restaurant.

 

The hostess who seated them when they entered was tall, blonde, curvy and full of smiles.

She chatted to Sam as she guided them through the place, to a table, and brushed a hand against his shoulder as she handed them menus. When she walked away after promising their server would be with them momentarily, Dean glared after her. 

“Dean,” there was an unspoken warning to behave in Sam’s voice, and the other man frowned and looked away.

“Didn’t have to touch you,” he heard the man muttered crossly.

He shook his head and picked up his menu to study it. When he raised his gaze again, he found that Dean was staring at him.

“I’m not on the menu, Dean,” he teased with a smile; he laughed softly as his brother flushed slightly and dropped his eyes back to the menu he held.

Their server arrived with their drinks and asked, “Ready to order?”  
“Yeah, I believe so,” Sam spoke. 

Dean’s eyes shifted from his brother as Sam ordered his food, to the server as the man raved about what a good choice he had made and how much he was going to enjoy it. His eyes narrowed in anger: he was fairly certain the man wanted to do more than take Sam’s order. His gaze returned to Sam as his brother spoke his name. 

"What?” he blinked, having missed the question.  
“Ready to order?” Sam shot him a quizzical look.

Dean glanced down at his menu – he couldn’t remember what he had decided on, as all of his attention had been on Sam.

"Uh,” he raised his eyes to the server, “Same thing as him.” 

"Okay!” the server said cheerfully, writing down the order. The server left their table, and Dean’s full attention turned to Sam again. 

"You okay?” his brother asked, concern etching his features. He couldn’t stop the smile that touched his lips as the question. His Sammy was always looking out for him. 

“Yeah,” he answered, “I’m good.” 

Sam's phone rang, and the other man pulled it from his pocket and glanced at it. “Bobby,” he informed, answering the call.

As his brother spoke to Bobby on the phone, Dean studied him. The other man was fascinating: every move, every word, every smile. Dean couldn’t get enough of it. It was like he was starving and Sam was the only nourishment that could satisfy him. 

He only caught half of Sam’s side of the conversation with Bobby – something about the witch and having to break the curse themselves- as he was too focused Sam himself. His chest ached with love and need for the other man.

Something in his head was shouting at him that it wasn’t supposed to be like this, he wasn’t supposed to hit on his brother. He wasn’t supposed to do what they had done in the motel to his baby brother. That part was weak, though, overwhelmed by the part of him that wanted to consume every word Sam spoke, every moment, every touch.

His brother was everything to him, and he felt empty without the other man’s touch, even when he was this short distance away.

The server returned with their food moments after Sam ended his call. He sat their plates in front of them and told Sam again,  
"You’re really going to love that. It’s incredible.” 

Sam commented that he hoped so, and the server said, “Trust me!” and dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. 

Dean twitched; he felt something wet in his hand just as Sam exclaimed,  
"Dean!” 

He glanced down to see that the glass he was holding (when had he picked that up?) was cracked, and water was dripping down his hand and on the table. The server pulled some napkins from his apron pocket and moved toward Dean, apologizing for the broken glass: he halted, startled, as Dean growled at him. He had touched his Sammy. That wasn’t acceptable. 

His gaze shifted to Sam as his brother told the server, “It’s okay, I’ve got it. Could you get him another water?” 

The man nodded and accepted the dripping, cracked glass that Sam took from Dean’s hand. He shot Dean a glance and walked away. 

Dean watched as Sam took some of the napkins to dry his hand. 

"You’re not cut,” the man noted, “Dean, did you crack that glass?” 

He blinked and murmured, “I don’t know. He was touching you.” 

Sam stared at him for a long moment before grabbing more napkins to mop up the water on the table. When he was finished, he raised his hazel gaze again. 

“You can’t freak out every time someone speaks to me, Dean,” the other man said quietly.

“Shouldn’t be touching you,” his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched, “He shouldn’t be touching you, Sam.” 

"Alright. You’re right. It’s okay,” the other man reached across the table and took his hand, and the tension left Dean’s body.

Sam took his brother’s hand, noticing that the other man relaxed the moment he touched him, and tried to appease him. 

"It’s okay,” he told his brother, squeezing his hand. The look Dean shot him in return was so full of adoration that it made Sam slightly uncomfortable. He was okay with his brother adoring him, but he wanted it to be because of more than a curse. He took a calming breath and suggested, “We should eat or it’s going to get cold.” 

He wasn’t surprised when a different server brought Dean’s water, claiming their original server had gone on break.


	8. 8.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers make it to Bobby's. Dean's still possessive.  
> Porn ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow updating, apologies. Rawr, college classes.  
> Porn, this chapter. M/M - wincest.

They arrived at Bobby’s three days later. They drove until late that first day, after leaving Utah, and had stopped at a motel that night. 

Dean had ended up in his bed again that night, shaking with cold chills that seemed to be worse this time. Sam woke them early and had them on the road again before 7 a.m. 

His brother was becoming more aggressive toward other people who even spoke to Sam, and someone touching even his hand by accident that morning, while handing him his coffee, nearly sent the man into a rage. 

He figured Bobby’s was the safest place to be, for everyone involved, until they could figure this thing out.

It was late afternoon when they pulled into the car yard, and Bobby was waiting on the front porch. 

"Boys,” he greeted as they climbed out of the car and approached, “Good to see you.”

He pulled Dean into a hug, which the man returned with a smile. It was when he repeated the gesture with Sam, pulling him into a hug, that Dean let out a sound that was similar to a growl. 

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam reminded, moving between his brother and Bobby. He placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders – the other man relaxed immediately – and looked into his face. “It’s okay. Okay?” 

His brother nodded and murmured, “Okay. Sorry, Bobby.” 

Sam turned to the older man, who was watching them in silence, and shot him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry,” he said, following as Bobby motioned for them to follow him into the house, “He’s – he’s having issues with other people touching me.” 

They were sitting at the kitchen table and Bobby was pouring whiskey into three glasses. 

“Well Dean,” the older man said as he took a seat, “The witch said you had to get your heart’s desire to break the curse. What’s your heart’s desire?”

“Sam,” was the immediate response. 

“O-kay,” Bobby nodded, “Other than Sam, what’s your heart’s desire?” 

"Sam.” 

Bobby scratched his head and downed his whiskey before looking at Sam and smirking, “It’s going to be a long night.” 

They spent a while trying to figure out what it was that might break Dean’s curse, but the man’s answer was the same every time. 

They took a break finally to have dinner. When they had finished their meal, they sat in the living room, talking and drinking beer. 

Dean had taken a seat on the couch next to Sam; he was currently clinging to his arm as if he feared Sam would disappear if he let go. Sam allowed it, giving Bobby an apologetic smile and a shrug. The older man didn’t seem bothered by it, saying only, “If it helps, it helps.” 

It was when Dean leaned in to brush his mouth against Sam’s neck that Sam flushed and gently pushed him away, murmuring,   
"Dean..” 

A sound that was very close to a soft whimper escaped Dean’s throat at the action, but he stayed where Sam put him. 

That now-familiar pang rose in Sam’s chest as he saw the pain in his brother’s eyes. He glanced at Bobby, who was watching them both in silence, before sliding an arm around the smaller man. Dean relaxed and laid his head back against Sam’s arm, closing his eyes.

"It’s getting worse, Bobby,” Sam ran his free hand through his hair in frustration, “He freaks out if anyone speaks to me or touches me. He can’t stand to have me out of his sight. He’s not eating because he’s too distracted with watching me, he barely sleeps for the same reason. When he does, he – he wakes up at night and it’s like he’s freezing to death. The only thing that seems to stop the chills when it happens is if I’m holding him. He keeps telling me how empty – “ 

Sam’s voice broke, and he swallowed hard, 

“ – how empty and cold he is without me. I don’t know how to fix it.” 

He glanced over at his brother, to find that Dean was watching him in silence, seemingly content to rest against him arm and let him talk. Sam studied the other man for a moment before giving in to the urge to lean over and brush his lips against Dean’s forehead. 

A smile touched the other man’s lips and he settled himself closer to Sam. 

“Love you, Sammy,” the man murmured, his eyes on Sam’s face.

Sam shifted his gaze to Bobby, who was studying him. 

"We’ll figure this out,” the older man’s voice was slightly gruff with emotion – he had noticed Dean’s weight loss, the dark circles beneath his eyes, the way he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off his brother. 

"There’s an answer here,” Bobby continued, “and I think you’ve got it. We just don’t know what it is yet.” 

Sam sighed and laid his head against the back of the couch. He looked at Dean as his brother reached up to touch his face and whisper,   
“Don’t be sad, Sammy.” 

"I’m okay,” he assured, “Just worried about you. I want you to be okay.” 

"I’m good long as I have you.”

Sam turned his focus back to Bobby as the man suggested,   
“Why don’t you boys get some rest? You both look exhausted. Guest room is ready for you. I’m going to stay down here and do some more research, so give me a yell if you need me.”

"Thanks, Bobby,”   
Sam stood, smirking in amusement as Dean scrambled to his feet beside him. He grabbed their duffel bags, which he had brought in earlier, from the end of the couch, then led the way through the house and up the stairs.

 

Sam dropped their duffel bags to the floor beside the queen size bed: it wouldn’t be the first time they had shared accommodations at Bobby’s.

He turned to his brother as he heard Dean whisper,   
"Sammy.” 

The other man was watching him, chewing on his bottom lip with a look of longing on his face. He watched the smaller man step close, and Dean spoke,   
“Sammy, please. Need you.” 

He placed his thumb against Dean’s lip and tugged it free of his teeth, “You’re going to make yourself bleed.” 

"I will if that’s what you want,”   
Dean’s eyes slid closed as he breathed the words; a moment later he had Sam’s thumb in his mouth and was sucking lightly on it. 

It sent a jolt of heat straight to Sam’s cock, and he raised his other hand to tangle it in his brother’s hair. Dean let out a soft moan and sucked harder, and a shudder of pleasure coursed through Sam.

He pulled away and moved to the door to lock it before turning back to his brother. Dean was staring at him, lips parted and breathing unsteady, his eyes burning with need. 

It was one of the most arousing things Sam had ever witnessed, and he wanted to see more. He knew it was wrong but as he closed the space between them, he realized he didn’t care. He would tomorrow, certainly, and when the curse was broken and Dean was cursing his name. Now, though, he needed his brother as much as Dean needed him.

Sam slid an arm around Dean’s waist, and the other man moved against him, leaning up to catch his mouth in a kiss. It was his turn to moan softly as his brother nipped at his bottom lip, then licked into his mouth, deepening the kiss. 

Sam gasped softly as Dean’s tongue found his, and the other man let out a hungry growl and grabbed his hips to pull him closer. The other pulled back long enough to drag him to the bed and shove him down on it, before lying next to him and kissing him again. 

Sam let himself get lost in it, in the heat of Dean’s mouth, the feel of his brother’s hands sliding beneath his t-shirt, Dean’s thigh sliding between his, pressing against his groin. He felt Dean’s hands tugging at his shirt, and he allowed the man to pull it off. 

Dean hummed in approval and leaned down to trace Sam’s nipple with the tip of his tongue. The older man growled in pleasure and, a moment later, had his lips on it and was sucking it. 

Sam bit his bottom lip hard, fighting back his cry of pleasure, and wrapped his fingers in Dean’s hair. He felt the other man’s hands at the waist of his jeans, undoing them; a moment later his brother pulled back and tugged them and his boxers off him, tossing them aside. 

Sam felt himself flush as Dean’s eyes roamed his body, taking in every inch. 

"You’re beautiful, Sammy,” the man whispered, voice husky with need. 

Sam feared that this was basically taking advantage of Dean’s need for him, but his aching cock didn’t seem to care. He reached down and gripped it tightly, a soft moan escaping his throat as pleasure caused him to shudder. He heard his brother growl softly, raised his eyes as the man undid his jeans and pulled out his own dick. 

Sam’s eyes fell to the man’s groin, and he licked his lips. He watched as the other man shed his clothes and tossed them to the floor, taking a long moment to admire his brother’s physique. 

He leaned forward, glanced up at Dean, brushed the tip of his tongue against the man’s cock head. His brother groaned, dick jerking, and Sam grew braver. He leaned in to lick a trail up the man’s shaft, and repeated the action. 

“Fuck yeah,” Dean’s groan was low, his head tilted back and eyes closed. 

Sam, working on instinct more than anything, traced his tongue around the head of the man’s cock. Dean groaned again, slipped a hand into his hair to grip it and pull him closer. 

He liked that, it made his own dick throb, and he took the head of his brother’s dick into his mouth. Dean growled and tightened his grip on his hair as Sam began to suck lightly. 

Encouraged by the man’s response, he slipped his lips down his shaft to take more of him. After an inch or so he gagged slightly – his brother was big – and Dean growled again. 

"Suck it,” came the rough-voiced instruction. 

He obeyed, sucking the shaft, careful not to catch it with his teeth. He gagged again as the man arched slightly into his mouth, and Dean groaned in obvious pleasure. 

Sam reached down and stroked his own dick as he sucked on the hard shaft; surprisingly enough, he liked the way the man felt in his mouth. He liked the pressure, the way Dean shoved deeper, pushed his way in. 

He pulled off his big brother’s cock with a wet pop, before diving down on it again. He managed to take more this time, gagging but fighting through it, his saliva running down the man’s throbbing dick. 

Dean gripped his head between both hands, gripped it in place while lightly fucking his mouth. 

"Yeah, that’s good,” the low-voiced groan sent shudders through Sam, made him want to take more, “Take it, baby boy. Such a good boy.”

He moaned around the hard dick at that, and Dean thrust lightly into his mouth. 

“You like that? Like it when I tell you what a good boy you are?” 

He moaned again, stroking his cock and slipping his hand lower to rub Dean’s balls. The man groaned, jerked his head close, gagging him in the process. 

“Yeah, that’s good. Suck it, sweetheart. Suck big brother’s cock.” 

Dean tangled his fingers in Sam’s hair as he sucked the man’s shaft, tugging it, and Sam cried out around the throbbing dick as he started to cum. 

Dean followed seconds later with his own low groan of pleasure, shoving into Sam’s mouth. Sam tried to swallow, choked, tried again. He couldn’t take it all but it didn’t stop him from making the effort. He trailed his tongue over his brother’s dick, licking up what he could of Dean’s hot seed.

When Dean had finished cumming, he reached down to pull Sam up and into a hard kiss. Sam wasn’t certain if he should be grossed out or turned on by the fact that Dean followed the kiss by licking his own cum off Sam’s face: he decided fairly quickly that it was hot.

"You’re so good, Sammy,” the other man murmured, kissing along his jaw line. 

The words sent a shiver of pleasure through him – it did something to him inside when he had his brother’s approval. 

“So fucking good,” the man continued, brushing his fingers through Sam’s hair, “My good boy.” 

The gentle caresses were making his already tired body more relaxed, and he fell asleep in Dean’s arms.


	9. 9.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam 'fesses up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter!

Sunlight was shining through the window when Sam woke the next morning. He stretched and turned his head to look at his brother. Dean was awake and watching him, a slight smile on his lips. 

"What are you smiling about?” he asked, stifling a yawn with his hand. 

"You,” the other man answered. 

He chuckled as Sam growled and rolled over to bury his head beneath his pillow.

 

When Sam woke the second time, he was wrapped in his brother’s arms. Dean was still awake, and still watching him. He gave the other man a sleepy smile, and Dean leaned in to brush their lips together in a gentle kiss.

“Love you, Sammy, love you more than everything.”

"Love you too, Dean,” he whispered the words before he thought about it; both brothers froze as they left his lips. 

Sam was horrified with himself – he had just given himself away, let his feelings out. He cursed himself for saying it aloud and raised fearful eyes to Dean. 

Dean, on the other hand, had a look of absolute joy on his face. It helped to ease Sam’s own fear that his brother was going to ridicule him or, worse, be disgusted with him in spite of the love curse. 

“Say it again,” his brother whispered, pulling him close and caressing his face, “Please Sammy..” 

Sam swallowed hard – he wasn’t certain if he should, he had revealed too much already. He couldn’t bear to disappoint Dean, though, not when the other man looked so happy. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered, meeting the other’s beautiful green gaze. 

"You mean that?" Dean's voice was soft, hopeful, and Sam knew he couldn't lie to the other man. Not about this. 

He nodded yes, and when Dean pulled him close for another kiss, Sam let himself get lost in it.

When they parted, Sam met his brother’s gaze, to find that Dean was giving him a puzzled look. 

“Dean? You okay?” 

The other man blinked at him and pulled away, putting a bit of distance between them. He got out of the bed suddenly, wrapping the sheet around his naked form as he did, and moved to the window.

"Dean?”

His brother turned to stare at him for a long moment. Sam was starting to get nervous, uncertain of Dean’s behavior, when the other man spoke, 

“I – I think it’s gone.” 

"What’s gone?” 

"The curse,” Dean answered, turning to look at him, “I think it’s gone.” 

Sam felt a moment of elation, followed by a moment of dread. If the curse was gone, he was certainly happy about it. Would his brother hate him, though, for all that had happened between them? 

"How –“ he swallowed, “Are you sure? How do you know?” 

The other man was silent for several seconds, thinking, before answering. 

"That – pull, that need to be close to you every second – it’s gone.” 

Sam glanced away, his heart sinking at those words. He raised his eyes back to Dean as the man corrected, 

"No, that’s not right. It’s still there, but it’s – before, I felt – it ached, if I wasn’t within reach of you, touching you. I felt empty. Cold. Like part of me was missing.” 

The other man met his gaze,   
“Now it’s like – like I know that you’re here, and you’re not going to leave me. That empty feeling is gone.” 

Dean swallowed hard and finished softly, “It’s like that pull to be close to you is not something out of my control. Not – not something I have to do, but something I _want_ to do.”

Sam watched as his brother approached the bed. The other man sat down on the edge of it and reached for his hand. 

"Did you mean it?”   
Dean stared at his hand and traced a fingertip across his palm. He raised his eyes to meet Sam’s, “Do you love me? Love love me?” 

Sam swallowed hard and nodded yes.   
"Since we were kids,” he whispered. 

The smile that crossed Dean’s face was beautiful, and it stole Sam’s breath.

"Sammy,” the other man leaned close, raised a hand to cup his cheek, “My Sammy.” 

"Do – “ Sam’s voice broke, and he swallowed hard again. “Did you - do you – mean it? Or is – is that – gone now?” 

"I meant it,” Dean didn’t hesitate, “I mean it. I..” It was his turn to swallow nervously, “I’ve loved you for years, Sammy. Long before that witch and her curse.” 

A sound that was part laugh, part sob, escaped Sam’s throat. Dean loved him. His Dean, the center of his entire world since the day he was born, loved him. 

"Come here,” the other man whispered, pulling him into his arms. 

Sam leaned into the embrace, wrapping his arms around his brother and clinging to him.

"I thought you were going to hate me,” he whispered, “When the curse was gone, I thought you would hate me for – for what I did. For taking advantage of you.” 

"I think I took advantage of you,” the other man corrected with a chuckle, “Could never hate you, Sammy. I love you too much. Always have, from the day you were born.” 

“What broke the spell?”

“You did,” Dean raised a hand to brush a thumb across his cheek, “That bitch witch, she said we could only break it when I had what I really wanted. That’s you, Sam. You loving me, that’s what I wanted. That’s what I’ve always wanted.”


	10. 10.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Rather short chapter]  
> The Boys find out that Bobby knew what they didn't know he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting two chapters tonight, to finish this up.  
> Thanks for coming along for the ride! ^_^ Hope you enjoyed.

A short while later, they were dressed and downstairs, and telling Bobby that the curse was broken. 

Bobby raised his eyes from the book he was studying and looked at them for a long moment. 

His gaze shifted to Sam and he asked,  
“Finally told him that you love him, did’ja?” 

"Wh- what?” Sam stared at the other man, stunned. 

“Well,” Bobby scratched at his chin for a moment, “He’s been telling you that since he got cursed. He kept saying it was you he wanted when we asked his heart’s desire, so it stands to reason that you _finally_ telling him would end the spell.” 

“Me, finally –“ Sam sputtered, “You – you knew?” 

“Of course I knew, ya idjit,” the older man shot them both an exasperated look, “I saw that, in both of you, when John left you here that summer Sam turned 14, and you were eating all my food and wasting my ammo. Sure took _you two_ long enough to figure it out.” 

"And you’re okay with it?” Dean questioned, staring at the man warily. 

Bobby stared at them both for a moment before standing and moving out from behind his desk. He crossed the room to stand in front of them, and pulled them both into a hug, an arm around each of them. They returned it gratefully, glancing at one another with something akin to relief in their eyes.

When he pulled back, Bobby looked at both of them and said, 

"You boys have been each other’s worlds since the day Sam was born. It – well, it ain’t socially acceptable, I don’t guess, but it ain’t like we’re a socially acceptable family, anyway. You’re soulmates. It’s the way it’s meant to be. I ain’t going to judge you for loving each other, when each other’s what you’ve always had and always will have. You two are like sons to me and I want you to be happy. If you’re happy with each other, I’m good.”

"Thanks, Bobby,” Dean blinked back the tears that were in his eyes, and reached for Sam’s hand. 

Sam took his hand and smiled at him, blinking back his own tears. Bobby was, had always been, like a father to them. His acceptance meant the world to them both. 

“Now,” Bobby said gruffly, running a hand over his own eyes, ‘If you two lovebirds are done mooning over each other, long enough to work at least, I’ve got a case for ya down in Missouri..”

 

[fin.]

**Author's Note:**

> Source of info for the janara:  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Witches_of_Benevento#The_walnut_tree  
> http://www.stregheria.com/Neapolitan.htm
> 
> I think I made up the curse myself, but it might be a really real mythological thing.


End file.
